


Bah, Humbug

by Breathesgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breathesgirl/pseuds/Breathesgirl
Summary: What happens when you lose your sparkly, bubbly personality?





	Bah, Humbug

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Making someone unenthusiastic about Christmas watch Christmas movies.
> 
> Not up to my usual standards, but I had fun, I hope you do too.

 

Professor Dumbledore stomped into the castle after storming up from Hagrid’s hut, and scowled at the giant Christmas tree which Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were in the process of decorating. He breezed by, not even stopping to exchange pleasantries as he normally would. The two professors exchanged a glance and followed the headmaster to his office, and exchanged another concerned glance when he threatened the gryphon guarding his office with removal if it didn’t open up immediately, then threatened it further if it let anyone else up the spiral staircase after him. 

Instead of taking her life in her hands by attempting to follow her friend and mentor, Minerva instead headed for the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey. Before she could get there however, Hagrid came flying into the entrance hall looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry p’rfessor,” he called as he turned the corner and headed for the headmasters corridor.

“Hagrid,” Minerva called after the rapidly retreating half giant.

Hagrid sighed  and turned towards her, head hanging ashamedly. He mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like humbug, but she couldn’t be sure. “‘M sorry p’rfessor’,” he mumbled into his beard. Minerva sighed and levelled a glare at him which was known to bring the bravest of Gryffindors to heel, but it just bounced off him like everything else.

“Hagrid,” she said, trying not to act on her frustration. “What did you do?”

His cheeks grew red at the implication, “I didn’ do nuthin’ p’rfess’r’,” he said, trying on an innocent look which might have worked on his father back in his childhood, but did not move the stern but fair Minerva McGonagall an inch. He sighed and hung his head so his chin nearly touched his chest, “‘Twas Fang, it was,” he said in what, for him, was a whisper, although anyone within normal hearing distance would have heard him just fine. 

Minerva sighed, it didn’t really matter which one of them it was as long as the issue, whatever it was, was fixed. “What did that boar hound do Hagrid,” she asked resignedly. When you wanted information from the affable half giant he was rather reticent, but when you wanted him to remain quiet about an issue he shone a candle on the information so even the dimmest could figure things out. 

“Well, yeah see,” he started, and Minerva knew it was going to be a much longer day than she anticipated. “I brought tha' new book on entomology into me hut and laid it on the table since someone was knocking on me door,” he started. 

“How does that have anything to do with that animal you call a hound,” she asked, truly curious as to how a large dog could have a single thing to do with a book, of all things. 

Hagrid sighed, ruffling the professor’s ruffle on her blouse, “‘e started whinin’ and snufflin’ a’ ‘t, an’ ‘e wouldn’t stop no matter wha’ I did. I picked the book up t' put it up on the shelf an’ ‘e grabbed it outta me han’ and started shakin’ it li’ ‘e were tryin’ ta toss ‘t away!”

Minerva sighed and her shoulders slumped, “What happened Hagrid,” she asked resignedly. 

“The book ‘it ‘im. Tweren’ ‘ard enough ta ‘urt ‘im’ but ‘e was suddenly all grouchy like, an’ ‘e stormed outta me hut an’ up ‘ere.”

Minerva sighed again, “go on back to your hut Hagrid. I’ll see if Poppy can figure it out. Perhaps you could go by the library first and ask Irma for a book on entomology and drop it off in the infirmary first.”

“A‘course p’rfessor,” Hagrid said and set off with his long strides to the library to do as bidden. 

“Poppy,” Minerva called as she entered the hospital wing. 

“In here,” the matron called as she left her storage cupboard, wiping her hands on a cloth as she did so. “You look like a storm cloud this afternoon,” she said as she caught sight of one of her best friends. 

“What kind of bug would cause someone who’s normally fairly even tempered to become suddenly grouchy?” She asked without any preamble. Just then Hagrid came in, large book in hand. He handed the book to Minerva and promptly left, head still hanging. 

Poppy raised an eyebrow at her friend and tilted her head toward her office where a pot of tea and cups had just appeared. 

“What are you talking about Minerva?” She asked as she poured them each a cup of the perfect temperature liquid. 

Minerva nodded her thanks for the liquid courage and told the medi witch what she had been able to piece together from Hagrid’s broken speech and her own observations of the headmaster as he’d gone to his office. 

“Oh my!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as she set her cup down and picked up the large tome Hagrid had dropped off. “I haven’t heard of a case...” her voice trailed off   as she found the entry she was looking for. 

 

_ Humbug:   _

_ T _ _ he humbug is a microscopic insect.  _

_ It is cousin to the bedbug, but causes a turn around in a person’s outlook.  _

_ If a person is in a happy mood when stung, the person becomes sad, depressed and is generally in a very sour mood.  _

_ If the person is in a sour mood, the person will become happy and bubbly.  _

_ T _ _ he only known cure to the humbug sting is to give the person an overdose of endorphins i _ _ f the one affected is normally happy, or to make them so angry they have no choice but to revert back to their mental state at the time of the sting.  _

_ Once a humbug has stung its victim, it dies, but it has a very short gestation period of three days, and reaches maturity in five days. _

_ It is very difficult to get rid of a humbug infestation, the easiest and fastest way to end the infestation is to burn the building to the ground, although there are traps and potions available, but they are not as reliable as one would like.  _

 

“I’ll need to get Severus researching and making this potion,” she said as she stood. “I hope it was only the one, but just to be sure, we’ll need to potion Hagrid’s hut. The only way to get Albus back to normal is to overdose him with happiness:  Happy thoughts, things which make him happy, doing things which he normally finds joyful.” 

She hurried to her floo and called Severus who was incredulous. “Do you know how hard it will be to find humbug dung?” He asked snarkily as he read over the potion’s ingredients. “And it takes a full ounce!  Where will I find that much?”

“Well,” Minerva said with a smirk, “Albus was stung in Hagrid’s hut.”

Severus rolled his eyes and sneered, “of course he was,” he said as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the infirmary to see if he could find the nearly impossible to get ingredient. 

Minerva could hear the trilling of Fawkes as she approached the headmaster’s office through the deputy’s door since she did not want Albus to follow through with his threat against the griffin. Fawkes did not sound as he should though, and she found out why when she opened the door: the poor phoenix was hiding behind the Sorting Hat on its shelf since his human was hurling hexes and jinxes at him. Fortunately, the shelf the hat resided on had a built in defence mechanism, put there by the founders, to help prevent tampering and spell fire. 

“Albus!” She called loudly once she had entered the room. 

He turned an uncharacteristic scowl on her, “what do you want Minerva,” he asked, sounding nothing like his usual jovial self. 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” She asked calmly. 

“No,” he said quite rudely. 

Minerva took a deep breath to steel herself so she could face the lion in his den, “you were stung by a humbug.”

Dumbledore glared at his former student and raised his wand, not liking what he had just heard. Minerva sighed and slowly backed out of the office, not quite trusting that he wouldn’t hex her into next year if she turned her back to the surly wizard. 

Even the students, most of whom were preparing to go home for the Christmas break, could tell that something wasn’t quite right with their headmaster: his eyes weren’t twinkling at dinner and he wasn’t talking to anybody. Then again, it looked like everyone was trying to sit as far away from him as possible. 

“What do you think is wrong with Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione asked curiously as she scooped some mashed potatoes onto her plate. 

Ron shrugged, “dunno,” he said around a turkey leg. “But I heard that he was actually yelling at one of the younger Gryffs this afternoon.”

Harry and Hermione actually raised an eyebrow at that bit of gossip: Professor Dumbledore was usually the most even tempered person they had ever met. 

They speculated on what could be wrong during the meal, but came to the conclusion they just didn’t know. When they left the Great Hall, intending to head to Gryffindor Tower to relax or finish packing Hagrid called to them. 

“He looks worse than Dumbledore,” Harry observed as they corrected their course from the main stairway towards the main doors. Hermione nodded even as she corrected him, reminding her best friend to show respect to their headmaster. 

Harry just sighed, otherwise showing no reaction to her reprimand, “What’s up Hagrid?” He asked, “You look awful!”

Hagrid’s shoulders were slumped and he had a hangdog expression on his face, and his whole demeanour seemed to be one of guilt. “I done sumthin’ ‘orrible,” he said quietly, so quietly it seemed to be in a normal speaking voice for everyone else. 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with Professor Dumbledore would it?” Hermione asked knowingly. After all, it didn’t take an alchemist to figure out that the headmaster’s problem showing up at the same time Hagrid felt guilty about something was more than just coincidence. 

Hagrid looked at her, horror stricken, “‘ow’d ye know tha’,” he asked warily. 

“It’s not hard to figure out when you show up feeling guilty about something the same night he looks like he took a bath in a vat of something sour,” she said smugly while Harry nodded with a half grin and Ron looked slightly less lost than usual. 

Hagrid looked like he was about to say something, making the three teens look hopeful that his loose lips would answer their question, but he only shook his head and turned to leave. “Come on Hagrid,” Harry cajoled, “we might be able to help if you tell us what the problem is.” The half giant looked like he might be considering it, so Harry continued, “didn’t we help with Norberta?”

Hagrid perked up a bit at the mention of his dragon and looked down at the three frantically nodding friends and relented, “I bough this new book on entomology, see. B’fore I could pu’ ‘t awa’ P’ressor Dumbledore knocked on me door so I put i’ on the table to answer the door,” he looked stricken at what he was saying so Harry and Hermione made consoling noises and patted him on the back to encourage him to continue, “Fang got holt o’ i’  an’ started shaking i’ li’ ‘e wanted to toss i’ awa’, but it hi’ the P’rfessor. ‘E started grumblin’ an’ frownin’ before ‘e stormed off. P’rfessor McGonagall says ‘e was bi’en by an humbug, and th’ on’y way to cure ‘Im is to o’erload ‘I’m wi’ ‘appiness.”

“Humbugs?” Hermione asked curiously. “What are they?”

“Their weird insects,” Ron put in his knut. “They're really tiny, can’t see them really, but if they bite you your mood goes completely wonky.”

Harry and Hermione just looked at him, he always managed to surprise them when he knew something the rest of them didn’t. He mistook their look though, “What?” He asked self-consciously, “we had an infestation a few years ago. Just about drove mum bonkers. Now she potion bombs The Burrow a couple of times a year to make sure they stay gone.”

“I...i...i,” Hermione looked excited. Those who knew her knew it was the excitement of learning something new, and the thought of spending extra time in her much beloved library researching what she had just learned. 

Harry laughed at her excitement, “Go on ‘Mione,” he said as he sent her a look of affection, “go do your research, we’ll keep Hagrid company for a bit.” Ron nodded in agreement, not that she saw since she was already rushing down the hallway, book bag banging against her hip. 

A couple of hours later Hermione was standing in front of Madam Pomfrey. After asking the medi witch copious amounts of questions and receiving satisfactory replies, she thought she had an acceptable plan to get the endorphins rushing through Professor Dumbledore’s body to reverse his mood. 

Madam Pomfrey wasn’t so sure though, “muggle technology doesn’t work here though Miss Granger,” she said yet again. “How are we going to show muggle movies if we can’t get the devices to work here?”

Hermione sighed, they’d been over this already, “is there a way my memories can be seen?”

The matron nodded, “of course.”

“Can more than one person view the memory at the same time?”

“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey said curiously. What was the girl getting at? “Several people can view pensieved memories at the same time.”

“Can a room full of people see it?”

Poppy considered Hermione’s question for several moments, “with certain pensieves it is possible, yes.”

“Do we have one of those?”

“The headmaster does, yes, but with his current mood...”

Hermione smiled, “could you call Professor McGonagall please?”

Moments later the deputy headmistress was sitting with the two, sipping her tea and listening as they laid out their plan. “Are you sure this will work?” She asked, concerned that the initial part of the plan would only anger Albus more. She had seen what he could do with, and without, a wand and did not want to be on the receiving end of his anger if she could possibly avoid it. 

Hermione shrugged, “do you have any better ideas?”

The head of Gryffindor House and the medi witch heaved a sigh, “no,” they said resignedly. 

“I have an eidetic memory, so if one of you could get the pensieve while I give the memories to the other, we could have a movie night before we go home tomorrow.”

The women nodded decisively: Professor McGonagall went to retrieve the pensieve, hoping he would be out of his office while she did so, while Madam Pomfrey retrieved some vials while Hermione thought of all the Christmas movies she’d seen so it would be easy for the matron to get them when she was ready. 

That night, to the surprise of the rest of the students, they were called to the Great Hall where they were treated to the sight of a room which looked totally different. Gone were the house and head tables:  in their place were comfy looking sofas and overstuffed chairs, ottomans and rugs and throw pillows. 

What arrested their attention even more though was the hilarious but sobering sight of a bound and gagged headmaster who was sitting in his favorite conjured squishy chair in hideous colours.  

“Students!” Professor McGonagall called, her voice amplified with a  _ sonorous _ charm. Once the chattering had quieted and the students’ attention was on her she continued, “Professor Dumbledore has been stung by a humbug,” there were gasps from most of the student body, with questions from the muggle born and sniggers from most of the Slytherins. The sniggers earned them a glare from the professors who were standing with the Deputy Headmistress. “The only known cure is to force him to change his mood from the rather,” she paused, searching for a word which would imply that he was a cantankerous bastard without outright saying it, “surly wizard he has become, back to the happy, bubbly headmaster we all know.”

“You mean we’ve got another Snape in the castle!” Dean Thomas whispered, causing the rest of the Gryffindors to shudder, and earning himself a glare from his head of house. 

“As a result,” Professor McGonagall continued, “we have a treat for the rest of you, in the hopes that your good cheer will only help in our efforts to make the headmaster laugh again. 

“Please, sit. Houses do not  matter tonight, as you can see. You may sit with friends and family to enjoy what we have tonight.”

With those words bowls of snacks and pitchers of assorted drinks appeared, including popcorn, Skittles and Reese’s Pieces, as well as an assortment of soda and juices. Everyone chose their seats and dug into the snacks as the professor continued, “compliments of our muggle born and raised students,” grumbling broke among the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy chief among them, “we’re being  _ forced _ to do something  **_muggle_ ** ?” And the emphasis he put on the word was anything but exciting or complimentary. There were plenty of head nods and cries of agreement among the other students, not just his housemates. 

“Certainly not!” Their transfiguration teacher exclaimed. “You are free to leave at any time and go back to your common rooms.” Those pure bloods who happened to agree with Malfoy rose to do as the professor suggested when she continued, “we would ask that you at least give what we have planned a chance first. No harm will come to you, and you may just enjoy yourselves.”  With plenty of grumbling most of the students settled back into their seats, willing to give the benefit of the doubt. After all, they could leave when they wanted. 

Once those who wished to leave had done so, most of the floating candles went out and a scene none of them expected appeared where the head table usually sat: the credits for A Muppet Christmas Carol. 

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly when she saw a quill moving through the air, writing something for Albus: perhaps it was something to make him smile?  She looked over his shoulder and pinched his thigh when she saw that he was writing ideas for ways to save pennies at the school, including cutting back on the use of coal. She sighed and banished the quill  to his office and the parchment to the fire, although she did make a note to talk to professor Sprout about planting a vegetable garden and teaching the students how to take care of them so they would always have the knowledge so when hard times hit they would be able to grow their own food. 

He did snicker slightly when the nose fell off the bust and the bracket of the shelf holding the busts fell off, and  Rizzo the rat was trying not to get squashed, but it wasn’t enough to reverse the effects of the humbug. 

At one point Dumbledore managed to get a finger free from his bindings and remove his gag. The professors were happy to hear him laughing, until they realized he was laughing at Belle breaking up with Ebenezer. McGonagall sighed and put a silencing charm on him and reinforced his bindings. 

She was also keeping an ear on the students, one should never underestimate what a child what a child would take away from life, and movies apparently, since she could hear some of them agreeing with Scrooge over his attitude toward the poor and disadvantaged, only comparing them to muggles. 

Madam Pomfrey kept a close eye on the headmaster as well, hoping their plan would work, but not having much hope: most of the movies they were watching weren’t very funny from an adult’s point of view since they were geared toward children. After all, Hermione was only 15 so they were seeing movies from her childhood and seeing them from her child’s view rather than that of an adult. 

She sighed as yet another children’s movie began: maybe they should call in reinforcements in the Weasley twins and see what they could come up with. 

By the time curfew came around most of the students had been bored enough to fall asleep, although the professors were happy to see most of those who had stayed under duress were still there, even if they were asleep. 

Minerva decided to leave the students where they were rather than waking them only to send them to bed, so she and the other professors transfigured the furniture into beds and conjured blankets for them. Albus had even fallen asleep, but she levitated him up to his bedchamber and put him to bed, although she left him bound and left a house elf to watch over him for her, making sure the elf knew to call her as soon as he woke and to not follow any of his instructions. 

When one looked out the windows of Hogwarts the next morning all they would be able to see would be a world of white. A blizzard had blown through the night before, leaving several feet of snow in its wake. As a result the Hogwarts Express would not be running on time since the tracks needed to be cleared of the snow before it could move from the storage yard. 

Laughter could be heard as those who had returned to their common rooms the night before entered the Great Hall for what should have been breakfast, only to find most of their class mates stretched out in unbecoming ways, or snuggled up with someone they never would have admitted to liking, let alone sharing a bed with. Those who were laughing received a collective glare as those who had watched the movies the night before woke up and realized where they were and who they were cuddled up to. 

In short order the hall had been restored to its usual state and the tables were laden with the usual fare they were given before leaving Hogwarts for an extended period. Those who were expecting to go home for the break groaned as they were told that they wouldn’t be able to leave until at least that afternoon, and probably not until the next morning, although those who wished and were able to, were welcome to use the floo network to go home. Quite a few decided they would much rather spend the time with family, so were quite happy not to have to spend the day travelling when several of them lived closer than King’s Cross, so their parents would be more than happy to not have to make the trip to pick them up. 

Albus had been even more irate when he woke and was still tied up, and was even less amused when Minerva had Severus watch over him as he performed his morning ablutions, and then had the potions master escort him back to the Great Hall. As far as he was concerned the previous night had been a waste of time nice it had not accomplished what Minerva had been hoping it would, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go back to the way he was before. 

He sighed as he was settled back into his chair again and yet another ‘film’ started. Quite a few students had returned, figuring it was better than working on assignments or worrying about not being able to get home when they were supposed to. 

Surprisingly,  Scrooged was a much better movie than the others had been, he even found himself laughing when something was actually funny, rather than at something which wasn’t really funny in the least. 

When the end credits started rolling he called for the movie to be played again, and Minerva happily complied: she had heard him laughing in appropriate places. By the time he had watched the movie through three different times he was feeling more like his usual self, the twinkle was even starting to come back to his eyes. 

When the movie was over for the final time the house elves brought in lunch, serving the staff and students where they were sitting rather than putting everything back. The meal ended with the Christmas Crackers, which were usually reserved for the Christmas dinner, after consulting with the headmistress: she knew it wouldn’t take much to bring Albus back, and the crackers were his favorite part of the Christmas dinner. 

Everyone had fun pulling the crackers with friends, and much laughter was had as chess sets, bonnets, sweets and other such frivolities were opened. Minerva opened one with Albus and held her breath as a pair of socks was revealed. He sat there staring at them for several minutes before he smiled,’ “Ariana always gave me socks for Christmas.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
